


We Had Been Golden

by iamtheenemy (Steph)



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph/pseuds/iamtheenemy
Summary: Before Quentin Coldwater, Fillory, and the epic clusterfuck of the last year, this is Eliot enjoying himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmmaDeMarais](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaDeMarais/gifts).



> I'm not sure if I did Eliot justice here, but I tried. I enjoyed the chance to think about what Eliot must have been like before the events of season one as well, so your prompt was very fun for me. I took Eliot's canonical love of first years and how they showed him helping Quentin in the first episode and sort of ran with the idea of Eliot doing the same things a year earlier. 
> 
> I've also never read the books, so knowledge is based on the first season of the show.
> 
> I hope you have an awesome holiday!

Eliot balanced the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he glanced down at his sleek silver watch distractedly. His bi-monthly phone call with his mother had already stretched over half an hour, and if he didn't find a way to end it soon, he'd be late.

“...so I said you'd show him around,” she was continuing, pulling him back into the conversation.

“Wait. Who?” he asked. 

His mother sighed in that long-suffering way she’d perfected on him years ago. “Your cousin Josh,” she repeated. “He’s talking about going to New York for college, and I said you'd show him around, maybe take him on a tour of your campus.”

Eliot pulled the phone away from his ear and banged it against his forehead. 

“...liot? Eliot?” she was saying when he returned it. “Eliot, you _will_ show that boy around. So help me, if you embarrass me in front of your father’s sister…”

“Yes, fine! God,” Eliot cut in before she could get going, his mind already racing through what spells he'd need to use on his cousin after it was all over. “Mom, I need to go.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “I miss you, baby." 

“I miss you too,” he said, and rolled his eyes. Less than an hour talking to his mother and he was already falling for her guilt trips. Good God, he needed a cocktail -- or ten.

Finally, he coaxed her off of the phone and hung it up with a relieved sigh. 

“Did you know,” came a voice behind him, and Eliot whirled around, clutching a hand to his heart, to look at Margo, “that you get an accent when you talk to your mother?”

Eliot glared while offering his arm for her to take. “Tell anyone, and I'll burn your new Louis Vuitton.”

Margo smacked his shoulder before accepting his arm. “You _bitch_ ,” she said.

“Is it time?” he asked as they made their way across campus. 

“My first one should be arriving at the south entrance in five minutes,” she answered.

“What's the name?” he asked. 

Margo drew the card out of her pocket and turned it around for him to see the name Carolyn Whittaker printed on it.

“Ugh,” Eliot said.

“Don't worry, I'm sure there will be more than enough nubile young men for you to choose from. When is your first arrival?” 

“Ramos Villanueva,” Eliot recited. “Twenty minutes, at the front entrance.”

“See, that sounds…” Margo trailed off as a harried-looking woman pushed her way through the thick foliage surrounding the south entrance.

“Where…?” the woman began, looking around wildly.

“Carolyn Whittaker?” Margo asked.

“How did you…? What the _fuck_ is going on?” Carolyn demanded.

“Congratulations,” Margo said in a bored monotone as she recited the scripted speech they'd all been given. “You've been offered an opportunity to take a preliminary exam for entrance into Brakebills University’s magical master’s program.”

“Are you…”

“No, I'm not kidding. Yes, this is real. Follow me to the exam room. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll learn a spell to help you fix that hair.”

“What?”

***

“Ramos Villanueva?” Eliot asked from where he was perched up on the Brakebills sign.

The man had close-cropped dark hair and thick eyebrows. Both of his arms were covered in tattoos.

“Thank God,” he replied. “My dad was pissing himself about me getting an invite. Where’s the test?”

Bemused, Eliot opened his mouth to answer when Ramos tapped a long finger to his temple. “Never mind, got it. Thanks, Eliot.”

He walked off in the direction of the exam rooms and Eliot rolled his eyes. _Fucking telepaths._

***

The second wave of new students had nearly finished. Eliot and Margo were sitting side by side on the steps sharing a cigarette and waiting for the last recruit on Eliot’s list. 

“I don’t understand why you don’t like first years,” Eliot said. “They’re so malleable. I’d think that would be perfect for you.”

Margo just gave him a look, and Eliot, sensing a story, nudged her shoulder. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”

She plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a deep drag, releasing the smoke from her lungs with an elegant pursing of her painted lips. “Do you remember that transfer student?”

Eliot squinted, searching back for who she could be talking about. “Wait, the illusionist?” he asked. “The one who looked like Zac Efron?”

“Spencer,” Margo confirmed. “And remember that party at the house before winter break?”

“Oh yeah, that was hard to forget. Aside from any of the specific details, of course. It was a very good night.”

“Well, while you went stumbling off with those Healer twins, I made my move,” Margo continued.

“By which, you mean you graciously allowed him to make his move without eviscerating him,” Eliot translated.

“Obviously,” she said. “And I took him back to my room. I blew him just to get things started, and…” She trailed off, either out of reluctance to finish the story or in order to build the anticipation. Margo was nothing if not a drama queen.

“And…?” Eliot coaxed. “And what? He had a tramp stamp? Didn’t manscape? What?”

She took the last drag from the dying cigarette and flicked it away. “He cried.”

“He...wait. Cried, as in…?” Eliot waved his hands vaguely in the air.

“As in, he started sobbing and thanking me as soon as he finished coming.” Margo covered her eyes with one hand and pretended to weep. “That was the b...b...best thing that ever ha...happened to me.”

Eliot burst into delighted laughter. “Margo Hanson, you actually blew some guy to tears! How have you kept this tale of delicious sexual schadenfreude from me for all these months? Wait, is that why he dropped out?”

She shrugged with a sly smirk.

Eliot placed a hand over his heart. “Oh my god. That is the most amazing thing I have ever heard. Your blow jobs _literally_ ruin lives.”

Margo dabbed the corners of her mouth with a perfectly manicured finger. “Anyway, that’s why I prefer my men with a bit more experience,” she said, when something caught her attention from over Eliot’s shoulder. “Though I’ve been known to make exceptions. _Hello_ , cowboy.”

Eliot turned around to see a man pushing through the large, wrought-iron gate at the edge of the grounds. He had wavy dark hair and light blue eyes. He was utterly gorgeous, but his clothes said corn-fed country boy -- the kind of boy that had made Eliot's life hell in Indiana for eighteen years. The kind he came all the way to New York to get away from. 

Untucked plaid shirt, canvas jacket, tight, faded work jeans, big brown boots. The guy just needed a cowboy hat and a pick-up truck to be straight out of Eliot’s hometown. Eliot felt his posture straighten defensively as his hackles went up.

“Nathan Gallagher?” he asked, reading off the card.

“Uh, yeah,” the guy answered, still looking around. And there was that midwestern twang Eliot had trained out of his voice years ago -- except, apparently, when talking to his mother. “I’m new in town, and...” He turned around in a slow circle, taking in the campus, “I think I’m lost.”

Margo hopped up off of the ledge she’d been lounging against and sauntered over to where Nathan stood. 

“Oh, honey, you’re not lost. You’re magic.”

Nathan reached up and ran a hand through his hair, in a move straight out of one of those old Marlboro Man ads . “I’m sorry, ma’am, magic?”

Margo glanced back, clearly missing Eliot's pinched expression in her own delight. “He called me ma’am, did you hear that?” Turning back to Nathan she said, “I’m Margo, and I am going to eat you for breakfast.”

“Umm…” Nathan replied. He looked more confused than anything, but still accepted the hand she held out to him.

“This is a magical school,” Eliot cut in brusquely. “You’ve been chosen to take an entrance exam to see if you qualify for the master’s program.”

“A magical master’s program?” Nathan repeated. “Huh. You know, I should say I’m surprised, but really, that does explain some things.” He grinned. “Less than one week away from Kansas, and my life’s already turned into Harry Potter.”

“Well,” Margo grabbed his arm, “you can call me Hermione while I’ll take you to the exam room.”

“Thank you,” Nathan said. “But, um, will you be there?”

There was silence, and it took Eliot several seconds to realize that Nathan was talking to him. 

“I...don’t have to take the exam,” Eliot answered, thrown.

“I know, but..after, maybe?” he untangled himself from a surprised-looking Margo and stepped towards Eliot while tucking both hands bashfully into his jean pockets. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Um -- Eliot,” he replied as his brain tried to adjust to this new information.

Nathan took a hand out of one pocket and extended it to Eliot, who took it, staring into clear blue eyes. 

“It’s real nice to meet you,” Nathan said.

“Ugh, that’s how it is?” Margo said, interrupting them.

Nathan shrugged, still not releasing Eliot’s hand. “I mean, that’s why I came to New York, after all. So yeah, that’s how it is.”

Nathan’s callused thumb ran across the back of his hand, and Eliot felt his cock twitch inside of his black pants. Well, this changed things.

“Ugh,” Margo grumbled again, clearly annoyed that she’d been rebuffed. “Eye fuck later, you two.” She knocked their hands apart. “Dean Fogg will be pissed if you’re late to the exam because Eliot gave you a boner.”

“You should go,” Eliot agreed.

“But later…” Nathan asked.

Eliot smirked. “If you still remember any of this, then later.”

“Hang on, what does that mean?” Nathan asked as Margo pulled him along. 

“Sometimes they wipe your memory. It’s a thing, don’t worry about it,” she said, leading him away.

***  
Three days before classes officially started back up again, the Physical House was on fire. Maybe literally, if anyone so much as sparked a lighter near the punch bowl in the kitchen.

They were ten hours into a forty-eight hour bacchanalia, and Eliot was just getting started. He’d lost his shirt and shoes at some point, and his naked chest was slick with sweat and glistening in the strobe lights flaring from above. He didn’t recognize half the people crammed into the house, but that didn’t matter. The physical kids had a reputation to uphold when it came to throwing the biggest, raunchiest, wildest parties on campus, and Eliot considered it his sacred duty to make sure that they lived up to it. 

The crowd of dancing ravers around him parted as Margo pushed through, looking appropriately debauched. She held out a small blue pill to him, which he swallowed dry without hesitation before dragging her against him. 

“Where have you been?” he asked, pitching his voice above the music. 

“Making the rounds,” she answered with a wave of her hand. “Word on the street is that your boy passed the test.”

Eliot felt a frisson of excitement, heavily aided by the drugs and alcohol coursing through his system.

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm,” Margo answered. “Midwestern gay boy comes to New York and ends up at Brakebills. Where have I heard that one before?” 

Eliot pulled back to shoot her his haughtiest glare. “Please. If I ever even contemplate wearing plaid, feel free to put me down as a mercy killing.”

Margo threw her head back and laughed. “But seriously,” she added. “He’s from Kansas, for god’s sake. Do you think he’s actually fucked another guy, or are you going to get to pop that cherry?”

The thought of that was appealing, though Eliot knew from experience that if you were determined enough, and willing enough to lower your standards, that partners could be found just about anywhere. He banished that thought away as soon as he had it. It brought back far too many dark memories that were not suitable to the time or the place. 

“He’s Monday’s concern,” Eliot declared instead, hooking his fingers through the spaghetti straps on Margo’s dress and reeling her in. “Tonight is about you and me.”

“It’s _always_ about you and me,” Margo replied, just as someone did something that made silver glitter rain down on them all, eliciting a roar of approval from the crowd.

***

Eliot leaned against the wall and checked the time. The intro class was letting out any minute. He'd spent most of Sunday night sobering up and knew that he looked good in his white shirt and navy blue vest. 

It was Monday now, his hair looked fucking perfect, and he had a cowboy to lasso. 

The door to the classroom opened, and slowly the students began milling out, most of them with the dazed look of people who still can't believe that this was their lives now. In Eliot's experience, that expression was a permanent fixture until about Christmas. 

Nathan walked out of the classroom talking to a woman with hair dyed bright red and a lip ring. He was wearing another plaid shirt -- this one in shades of blue that brought out his eyes -- and he had a bag slung over one shoulder. It took him a moment to notice Eliot, who smirked and gave him a cheeky wave from across the hall. Nathan said something to the woman he was talking to and then made his way through the exiting students to stand in front of him, grinning broadly.

"Hey!" he said. "You're here. Wow! So, hey -- I didn't get my memory wiped."

“No, you didn’t,” Eliot agreed. “Want to have a drink?”

***

Eliot sat down on the couch next to Nathan close enough that their shoulders touched. He watched him take a tentative sip from the cocktail and raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t magically roofie it, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

Nathan laughed a bit. “No, it’s just...we don’t have drinks like this in Kansas. It’s pretty much all Coors Light and Jack and Coke. But this is good. It’s...sweet.” He took another pointed sip and drummed his fingers on the glass. “Thanks.”

“Nathan, have you ever had sex with a man?” Eliot asked, deciding to skip the pleasantries and cut straight to the point.

Nathan coughed on his next sip in his hurry to answer. “Yes, why would you ask that?”

“Yes?” Eliot repeated.

Nathan paused and then he rolled his eyes and explained with a self-effacing shrug, “I’ve done it twice. Not much action on the farm, and the gay bars in Wichita aren’t exactly my style.”

“Oh?” Eliot said. “And what _is_ your style?”

“More…” Nathan looked Eliot’s body up and down the same way he’d done the first time they’d met, but this time he let his eyes linger. “Sophisticated.”

Eliot crossed his legs, heart beginning to pound in anticipation, and leaned in closer. “Sophisticated, huh?”

Nathan bent his head closer and pressed a hand to Eliot’s thigh. “Yeah, sophisticated. I mean, goofy bright green drinks aren’t required, but they’re not a deal breaker either.”

Eliot tossed his head back and laughed, and then allowed himself one more sip from his _exquisite_ , perfectly mixed cocktail, and said, “Would you like to see my bedroom?”

Nathan knocked back the rest of his drink in one long swallow and tossed the empty glass onto the table. 

“Absolutely.”

***

“So this is it,” Eliot said, gesturing around the spacious area. 

Nathan gave the room a cursory look and responded, “Love the way you decorated. Can we get naked now?” 

“My thoughts exactly,” Eliot said, reaching up to take off his scarf. 

Then both men were pulling at their clothing and tossing items onto the floor. Once they were naked, Eliot wasted no time wrapping his arms around Nathan’s wide, tan shoulders and pulling him in for a long, filthy kiss. 

Eventually they broke apart, panting, and Eliot took a long look at Nathan, from his muscled arms, down past his half-hard cock, to his strong thighs. It seemed that farm work did have some benefits.

“And those two times you _did it_ before,” Eliot began, “were you on the top or bottom?” The blush that crept down Nathan's neck and to his chest served as its own answer. “The bottom, huh?” It didn’t really matter to Eliot, who was, above all else, a craven hedonist at heart, willing to do everything and anything. However, the thought of getting to fuck that gorgeous, tight ass was definitely appealing.

He gave his stirring cock a few slow tugs at the thought, enjoying the way that Nathan’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, you and I are going to get along very well.”

“Yeah?” Nathan asked, not tearing his eyes away from Eliot’s hand. 

“Yes,” Eliot confirmed. “Get on the bed.” 

Nathan climbed on top of Eliot’s king-sized bed and laid down on his back, staring up at Eliot expectantly. “Well?”

“Watch this,” Eliot said, and with practiced ease called up a spell that had tiny, bright white electric pulses flaring off of all ten fingers.

“Whoa!” Nathan cried out, scrambling back against the headboard. “Whatever that is, I’m not into it. I don’t do pain.”

Eliot rolled his eyes and kneeled on the bed. “Sweetheart, I’m about thirty seconds away from getting laid. Do you really think I’d mess it up by pulling some surprise BDSM on you? Put your hand out, I’ll show you.”

“It’s not going to hurt?” Nathan asked, slowly stretching out his hand to Eliot.

“I promise,” Eliot replied. “Consider this your first lesson in magic.” He made a show of only holding out his pointer finger, white energy still crackling from the tip of it, and tracing a line along Nathan’s palm. His whole arm was rigid until Eliot touched him, and then he jumped in surprise, his mouth falling open. 

“Good?” Eliot asked.

“Yes,” Nathan breathed, eyes wide open. “God, yes, what _is_ that?” 

“Sex magic,” Eliot answered, throwing his leg over Nathan’s hips and getting comfortable. That was a lie. The spell was taught to him by one of the Healer twins -- that had been a _really, really_ good night. It brought up energy to the tips of his fingers and that could be used to soothe pain in someone else by stimulating the nerve endings with a warm, tingling sensation that soaked into the skin and healed from the inside. To an injured person, it felt comforting. To an uninjured person -- 

“Holy shit, magic is _awesome_ ,” Nathan gasped as Eliot used both hands to gently spider-crawl up the inside of his arms, the energy from his fingers licking against the tan and freckled skin. 

From Eliot’s experience, first at the hands of Henry and Peter and then plenty of times since, the first orgasm from the spell’s stimulation would come too fast to be any use to him, so getting it over with quickly was necessary before the real fun could start. 

Also, Eliot was maybe showing off a little.

He lingered on the inside of his elbows, and Nathan’s hips began to twitch under him, his cock now fully hard and rubbing against Eliot’s ass. He went up, up, around Nathan’s shoulders, rubbing them a bit. Nathan’s head was lulled to the side, his body offered completely to Eliot. 

Using just the pointer fingers of both hands, Eliot traced along the edges of his defined pecs and made two wide circles that he made smaller and smaller, honing in on Nathan’s nipples.

“Getting closer,” he said, not only referring to the location of his fingers, but also Nathan’s cock grinding against him. “Ah, ah...getting closer…” He made another, tight circle and enjoyed watching the energy dance off of his fingers and swirl around Nathan.

“You’re an asshole,” Nathan complained through gritted teeth as his chest heaved up and down with his shallow breaths.

“What’s that?” Eliot said, feigning confusion before pinching both of Nathan’s nipples between finger and thumb. He didn’t move, but just held on with that firm pressure and let the magic do the work.

_Should be done in three, two…_

With a gasp and a look of genuine surprise, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening, Nathan came under him, the bucking of his thick thighs and strong hips nearly knocking Eliot over before two hands gripped his waist and kept him in place.

Eliot let go and leaned back against Nathan’s raised knees behind him, not wanting to over-stimulate. Instead, he gripped his own cock, the energy in his fingers unfortunately useless on himself, and waited for Nathan to ride it out. 

“You...you have to teach me how to do that,” Nathan said when he caught his breath again.

“Maybe,” Eliot said with no intention to honor that promise. He wouldn’t even show Margo how it’s done.

“I don’t usually come that quickly,” Nathan said. 

“Oh?” said Eliot, feigning skepticism. “And such a shame we didn’t even make it to the good part.”

“That part felt pretty good to me, actually,” Nathan replied. He stretched up and tucked one arm behind his head, while the other hand played idly with the light hair sprinkled on his abs. 

Wasn’t that a pretty picture? The last of Eliot’s patience snapped and he crawled off of Nathan’s body in order to wrap a hand around his soft, wet cock, stroking gently. 

“Generally sex involves this,” he said. Nathan pushed himself up onto his elbows to watch Eliot work. “Unless they do it differently in Kansas, that is.”

A firm grasp of the shaft with one hand while Eliot carefully massaged the sensitive head with the fingertips of the other was all it took to get Nathan panting and half-hard once again. After a few good strokes, Eliot let go and moved back, waiting until Nathan dragged his eyes up and met his gaze.

“Turn around,” he said, and Nathan did it quickly, up on his hands and knees, before looking over his shoulder back at Eliot when he didn’t return his hand.

”Well? Are you going to do something? Why did you stop?” 

Eliot pressed a hand on the mattress for leverage as he draped his body over Nathan’s back. He put his lips against his ear and whispered, “Because…” 

Nathan tilted his head towards Eliot, his breath hitching as Eliot licked the shell of his ear. 

“Because,” Eliot continued, “I don't want you to come again as soon as I tell you to imagine what these fingers are going to feel like inside of you.” 

“Oh fuck,” Nathan groaned. “Do it. Do it, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Eliot agreed magnanimously.

He dropped wet kisses along the length of Nathan’s spine as he worked his way back down his body. He put one hand on Nathan’s firm ass, spreading it open, and trailed the slick fingers of his other hand from Nathan’s balls up to his hole. Pushing until just the tip of one finger was inside, he let Nathan feel the heat and energy from the spell pulsating outward. Nathan’s back arched and he shifted his knees closer to his chest, trying to thrust himself further down onto Eliot’s finger. 

“Eliot. Eliot,” he panted. 

Eliot smirked. “Welcome to Brakebills,” he said, before pushing that first finger in, followed quickly by another, and reveling in Nathan’s choked off moan. 

After giving him a minute to adjust, he used his other hand to reach around until he was once again gripping the boy’s dripping cock, eliciting a delicious, full-body shudder from him.

“Feel free to scream when I hit the right spot,” Eliot said. 

He coupled the precise crook of his fingers inside with a long, tight slide of his fist around the length of Nathan’s cock, and the boy obliged, shouting loud enough for the whole house to hear. His hips jerked up and down as he worked himself back onto Eliot’s fingers massaging his prostate up and down into the hand jacking his cock. 

He lasted longer the second time -- not that that was saying much -- but this time the orgasm seemed like it was being ripped out of him. His body drew up as tight as a bowstring and he howled, his ass convulsing around Eliot’s fingers and his dick pulsing out thick ropes of come. Eliot stroked him through it, watching in satisfaction as Nathan’s eyes rolled back and his arms gave out. 

It was possible that Eliot’s little party trick was going to ruin Nathan for any other man after this. Too bad. 

When Nathan collapsed onto the bed, Eliot reached over into the drawer in his bedside table and pulled out the lube, slicking himself up.

“Now it’s my turn,” he said, taking a moment to extinguish the healing spell on his hands in order to avoid losing control of it.

Nathan turned, half of his face mashed against the mattress and buried in Eliot’s Egyptian cotton bed sheets. “Do it,” he said, and then hitched his knees up closer to his body. Eliot pushed inside of Nathan’s pliant body, felt the tight heat sliding over his cock and groaned in relief. Under him, Nathan curled his hands under his cheek and rode through it with his heavy-lidded eyes half shut.

Reaching over to the bedside table a second time, he took a hand-rolled cigarette out of his case and lit it with a flick of his fingers. He took a drag as he pulled out of Nathan’s body, and on the exhale, he slid back in balls-deep with a slow, languorous thrust of his hips. Grinning up at the ceiling, he took another drag from his cigarette and blew it out through pursed lips before sighing in satisfaction.

“Yeah, that’s the stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Nathan agreed lazily.

***

The next morning, Margo sat down beside Eliot on the couch in the common room and handed him a cup of black coffee. 

“The walls are thin, so I don’t have to ask you how your night was,” she began. 

Eliot smirked and took a sip from the cup.

“It’s gonna be a good year,” Margo said. 

“Oh yes,” he agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as ever to Kimmi for the beta!


End file.
